


Last Words

by Wired_Prophet



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5310851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wired_Prophet/pseuds/Wired_Prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons has something to say before he goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Words

At first there had been too many soldiers for the two of them to fight by themselves. Somehow they managed to duck mostly out of the way of fire and escape into a room deeper into the ship, Simmons still catching a shot in his good arm. In a movie, Simmons wouldn't have noticed the wound until they were safe, and the "adrenaline" was gone. This was not an action flick, though, and Simmons noticed it immediately and screamed in terror and pain. Grif, who really always did better under pressure than Simmons, grabbed his metal arm and dragged him through the hallways of the ship into a random room, hopefully where Hargrove's soldiers wouldn't look.

Grif locked the door as Simmons slid down a wall and thumped on to the floor. "How's your arm?" He asked, the sound of the battle much quieter in here.

Simmons stuttered some syllables before he managed to get out, "Hurts."

"Shit, lemme see it." Grif kneeled next him. Simmons hesitantly lifted his upper arm. Grif got out his pocket knife.

Simmons stared at it in horror, "What are you doing with that?" he squeaked.

"I'm cutting your suit open, obviously. Jesus, what did you think I was going to do?" He continued, cutting a few lines around the bullet hole to move the fabric.

"Well, to be honest I thought you were gonna like, dig it out or something." Simmons replied, looking the other way.

Grif's face morphed into a look of disgust as he got a better look at the wound, "Uh, don't be too sure we won't." He said squeamishly.

The blood drained from Simmon's face. He looked Grif's way again. "If you think I'm letting you-"

"I'm just fuckin' with ya. Your first aid should have tweezers, right?"

" _MY_ first aid kit? Why the hell didn't you bring yo-" He stopped as he realized the noises outside were getting louder. The rap of guns echoing.

"Shit." Grif said, putting away his knife. "We won't have time to deal with this. Sorry. Try to use you other arm, man." He picked up his gun again.

Simmons nodded and picked up his gun as well, hoping it would be enough. They would find them; they were the only locked door out of hundreds. He tried to be brave, he tried to ignore the overwhelming pain in his arm. He listened to the clomp of boots coming their way. There were so _many_.

"Grif I have to tell you something," Simmons said.

"Oh, yeah I gotta tell you something too-"

Simmons was too quick for that. "Nope! You're not ruining it again, asshole. It's my turn to say something before we die."

He continued, "Look, Grif. You're a jackass. Nobody hated you more than I did. Well, maybe except for Sarge- That's not the point! I hated you a lot, and I don't know if it was just constantly being exposed to you for the past thirteen years for if it was your "charming" personality, but I learned to like you, I guess. Honestly, you're the best friend I've ever had. And I don't know what I would do if you died, which is, uh, what we are most likely going to do right now. But I want you to know that uh, well, even though we hated each other alot, um..."

"God Simmons, _the point_."

"I love you, Grif," He sputtered, still looking ahead. "I love you so much, and uh, I needed you to know that."

It was quiet for a second, before Simmons spoke again. "Grif?"

He heard a sniff from Grif's helmet. "You can't just say something like that before we die, dipshit! What am I supposed to say!?"

"... Were you crying?"

"No! Fuck off."

They heard a sudden burst of gunfire from outside the room. They heard someone step closer to the door.

"Grif, I love you."

"You said that already."

"Yeah, just felt like it."

Their guns shook in fear. They flinched as the door bust down, finger on the trigger,

"Don't shoot! Just me, just me." Agent Washington said, the other soldiers' blood on his armor, but completely unharmed.

Simmons almost collapsed in relief. Grif spoke, "Wash! Thank fucking god. I was sure we were done for."

"Yeah, there was a lot of them. At least for you guys," Grif rolled his eyes; Wash is still kind of an asshole, "but Carolina saw you guys come in here on the ship's cam, told me to stop by here on the way to the fight."

"Thanks. I'd leave right now but Simmons' got like," he gestured towards his arm, "a bullet inside him."

"Whatever, sure, make it quick."

Simmons quickly unclipped his aid kit and gave it to Grif. He took the tweezers out, "Okay, try not to be a giant baby, alright."

"Ugh, shut up."

"Yeah, love you too, Simmons."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's short and bad. It was late and I felt the need to WRITE.


End file.
